


Standards and Practices

by romanticalgirl



Category: House M.D.
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 15:09:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/724696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You treat the symptoms, but you can't cure the disease</p>
            </blockquote>





	Standards and Practices

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 5-23-05

James stood in the doorway like a death knell, his mouth tipped into a smirk that he made no show of hiding. “Feeling a little abraded, are we?”

“I’m abrasive. You got your scouring wrong.”

“No. I don’t think so.” He walked in and sat opposite House and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his hands together. “I could be an ass and ask if you’ve called her.”

“But?”

“But you have, so I won’t.” He leaned back, his smile still in place. “It could be good for you, you know.”

“Right. Seeing her with power over someone else’s life and death choices fills me with glee.”

“You’re the one who tossed her out after you woke up.”

“For good reason.”

“Being a stubborn bastard who refuses to admit he was wrong is a good reason?” James shook his head. “Greg, as much as you like to think you’re right all the time, you’re not. And, much to the dismay of everyone else around you, pretty much the only time you’re wrong is when it comes to yourself.” 

“Is this where you remind me that she saved my life and that, had she not approved the surgery, I would be either debilitated by pain or walking around with a metal pole for a leg instead of the one up my ass?” He got to his feet, his knuckles white around his cane. “Or can this be where I remind you that I am in debilitating pain?”

“You wanted her to make that choice for you, Greg.” He turned sharply, his eyes flashing. Wilson ignored him. “You knew it wasn’t working. But admitting you were wrong would have been more painful to you than anything else.” 

“Perhaps you’re forgetting the aftermath of all of this, James.” House laced his name with venom. “I kicked her out of my life. I severed every fucking tie I had with her.”

“I know.”

“I loved her.”

“You love her. You still have the ring you bought her hidden away somewhere.” Wilson held House’s gaze. “But you couldn’t thank her, couldn’t give her more power over you. Couldn’t stand the thought of facing someone day after day and seeing the fact that you were wrong written on her face.”

“I couldn’t stand to see the pity in her eyes.”

“She never would have pitied you.” James got to his feet. “You’re a bitter, miserable man because you kicked her out of your life. Were she still in it, none of us would have reason to pity you.”

“Were she still in my life,” House sneered, “she’d be off sleeping with someone else hoping that she could find someone capable of lasting more than five minutes without collapsing in pain. Were she still in my life, she’d be out of my life.”

“Were she in your life, she’d be on top. Which really wouldn’t have been much of a change, would it?”

House’s cane slammed into Wilson’s chest. “Get out.”

“You misdiagnosed the leg, Greg, just like everyone else.”

“Yeah, I live with that mistake every fucking day.”

“Maybe you made a mistake with Stacy as well.”

House lifted his chin, his eyes hard. “Goodnight, James.”

**

“Hello, Lisa.”

Cuddy looked up from her desk, her eyes widening. “Stacy.” She gave a brief laugh. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Something…nothing. Something just made sense.” Cuddy stood and held out her hand. “How are you?”

Stacy walked forward and accepted her outstretched grip before sinking down into the chair opposite. “I’m…Let’s start with an easier question, shall we?” She looked down at the floor. “How’s Greg?”

“House is the easier question?” Cuddy sighed. “You know what? I’m done for the day. What do you say we go out and get a drink?”

“That would be…” Stacy paused, blinking back the sudden rush of tears that sparkled in her eyes. “That would be nice.”

Cuddy gathered her things and stood, walking around her desk. Stacy stood as well, falling in step beside her. “Have you seen James?”

“No. Not yet. I figured Greg was bunkered up with him planning a strategy to destroy me.”

“James wouldn’t do that.”

“Greg would.” Stacy laughed softly. “My car’s right outside.” They walked in silence until they reached the Mercedes, the remote beep breaking the quiet. “My husband is dying.”

Cuddy stopped mid-stride. “Oh.”

Stacy managed a weak smile. “You’re right. Let’s wait for a drink.”

**

“House?”

He didn’t acknowledge the tentative question from his position on the floor. 

“House.”

“Is there some question as to my identity, Dr. Cameron, or are you just generating a façade of concern in order to come in here and interrupt me?”

“I was wondering if you were all right.”

“And what will the answer cost me?”

She stopped, stung. “You had an emotional day…”

“One I brought on myself.” He turned his head and met her gaze. “Or did you think perhaps someone else had prepared that particular lecture?”

“Obviously it was difficult for you…”

“You, Dr. Cameron, know nothing about what is and isn’t difficult for me.” He sat up and spun to face her, his legs stretched out in front of him. “The only thing you know about me is that I’m a bitter, sarcastic misanthropist who refuses to be coerced into telling you his feelings.” 

“Would you like me to admit that I was wrong? That I went about it all the wrong way?”

“Would you like me to acknowledge that you’ve been hurt before and you were only acting in a way to preserve your own self-esteem and dignity? Would you like me to give you a nice little pat on the head or on the ass and tell you to run along, all is well?”

“I want you to stop treating my like a pariah.”

“Perhaps you should have thought of that before you placed a condition on rehiring you. Or, more to the point, perhaps you should have made that a condition of your rehiring. Better still, you should have just told me I had to fuck you to get you to come back to work so that you would have at least gotten something almost worthwhile for your trouble.” He got to his feet, glaring at her to forestall any offer of assistance. “What do you want, Dr. Cameron?”

“I’m sorry.”

“And what, pray tell, are you sorry for? For my leg? I assure you, you had nothing to do with that. I can’t even blame you as the doctor who misdiagnosed it. For baring my soul for all to see in front of a host of snot-nosed doctor wannabes? Again, not your call. For putting us in a tenuous work situation by forcing me to act like we’re going to the prom in order to get you to do your job? Is that what you’re sorry for, Dr. Cameron?” He walked over to the bookcase and pulled a volume free. “Maybe you’re sorry that I’m such an uncompassionate, unfeeling ass? Or maybe you’re just sorry that you ever came in here?”

“You keep pushing people away…”

“Because I don’t want them around.” He set his book down on his desk then settled into his chair. “Go away, Cameron. Go to the oncology ward. I’m sure there’s someone there who wants your particularly saccharine brand of sympathy.”

“Did she leave you or did you make her go?” She walked over and sat down across from him. “Given our dinner as reference, I would assume you drove her away, but then it’s possible that you weren’t exactly like you are now when she was in your life.” She crossed her legs, drawing her eyes to them. “Of course, if you were like you are now, I suppose it’s just as feasible that she left you.”

“I’m sorry, is this your version of an apology?”

“You’ve just informed me that I have nothing to be sorry for.” Cameron shrugged. “Dr. Wilson told me to be careful with you on our date, you know.”

“Dr. Wilson talks too much for his own good.”

“What would you have said if I’d told you that I wanted you to sleep with me to get me to come back?”

“I’d have referred you to our human resources department and the very strict policy on sexual harassment.” His mouth twitched with the threat of a smile. “And then I would have told you that I thought we might be able to get away with it if you didn’t come back to work until afterwards.”

“So the chance has passed us by?”

House laughed once, softly. “There never was a chance, Dr. Cameron.” He got to his feet and went back to the bookcase, effectively dismissing her. “Not a chance in hell.”

**

“When did you get married?”

“Two years after I left.”

“Oh.”

Stacy laughed softly. “Nice try.”

“What?” Cuddy took a sip of her wine, lowering her eyes from Stacy’s gaze.

“I can hear the disapproval, you know. Or maybe I feel it, so I assume it’s there even when it isn’t. It doesn’t seem like a long time, does it? Two years to get over Gregory House.”

“You said you got married. You didn’t say you got over House.”

Stacy laughed in earnest this time. “I know I’m back in Greg’s crowd when it comes down to semantics. But you’re right. I didn’t say I got over Greg, did I?” She took a sip of her own wine and bowed her head, her hair shielding her from Cuddy’s eyes. “Greg’s not the sort of person you get over. Get past, maybe.” She took another slow sip. “I do love him. He’s so different from Greg, but then who isn’t?”

“So you got married.”

“And things were fine. Moving on with my life and our life together. He started getting sick earlier this year. Symptoms of various diseases but the tests all showed nothing. Pain with negative CTs and MRIs. Ultrasounds were negative. Urine tests showed nothing, blood tests showed nothing. He was poked and prodded and I sat beside him in the hospital, holding his hand.”

“And experiencing a certain sense of déjà vu?” 

Stacy pushed her wine away and sighed. “Yeah. Something like that.” She looked around the room, anywhere but at Cuddy. “So I contacted James and asked for his advice. The best doctors around. Anyone who could help us.”

“And he mentioned House.”

“No. He very pointedly did not mention Greg. Which made sense given that he seems to have neglected to tell Greg that I got married.”

“Do you blame him?”

Stacy sighed and exhaled loudly. “No. But I was sort of hoping.”

“So you tried everyone else.”

“And he keeps getting worse. And all I can think about is the fact that three days made all the difference with Greg, but time kept moving and I just couldn’t bring myself…” She reached for her wine again and drained the glass. “Greg’s not the most forgiving of men.”

“No. Forgiveness isn’t his strong suit.” Cuddy signaled the waitress. “So what finally brought you here?”

“There wasn’t anyone else. And everyone we talked to, everyone who saw him told us there was only one man who had a chance in hell of saving him.”

“House.”

“So, here I am. Here we are. As effectively at Greg’s mercy as he was at mine.” Stacy waited impatiently as the waitress refilled her glass. “The largest problem being that he’s not likely to show any.”

“He’s agreed to see him?”

“No doubt for a price.” Stacy finished her wine in one long drink. “There was a message on my phone that he’ll see him tomorrow morning.”

“And you’re here telling me all of this because you hope I have some measure of ability to keep Greg in line?”

“I’m here because I don’t have anyone else to turn to. James is a friend, but when it comes down to it, he’s loyal to Greg without question.”

“And my loyalty?”

“My husband isn’t exactly…aware yet the Greg and I were involved. I thought it best not to tell him that this Greg happens to be the Greg until I knew for sure that he’d help us.”

“You really are hoping that I’ll keep Greg in line, aren’t you?” Cuddy shook her head. “I have difficulty getting him to do his job in the clinic for people he doesn’t know or care about, and you think that I have the ability to control him when it comes to you?”

“I know you two…”

Cuddy straightened. “I see. You’re hoping that simply because House and I managed to fall into bed a few times, I can make him play nice?” Cuddy shook her head. “My job back then was to save his life. I violated a host of ethical laws in order to do that. What happened to your relationship as a result of the choices that you and I made is not my concern.”

“Though it certainly helped you bed him.”

“Don’t assume that you know anything about my relationship with House on any level, professional or otherwise.”

“You’ve as much as told me you have no control over him professionally.” Stacy looked down at the ring on her finger. “It must have bothered you to know that he was thinking of me even when he was fucking you.”

“Thank you for the drink, Stacy.” Cuddy got to her feet. “I’ll walk back to the hospital.”

“You know, it’s rare for a female to be the administrator of a major hospital. Pity you can’t even control your most headstrong doctor without lying on your back…or that you can’t even control him by lying on your back.”

“You really don’t know him as well as you think you do,” Cuddy hissed through clenched teeth. “Greg likes his women on top.”

**

House walked down the quiet corridors of the hospital, the synthetic tip of his cane making a soft, hollow sound on the floor. The lights were out in most of the rooms, the haunting echo of various machines accompanying him on his walk. He slid his key card through the slot and walked into the darkened room, the tympanic echo of hollow acoustics giving the softly silent whisper of the door closing a melancholic air. He closed his eyes and inhaled the taste of chlorine then made his way to the dressing room. 

He sank into the water a few moments later, letting the overheated mass of it swallow him whole. He resurfaced slowly and blew out a breath before pushing off with his feet and stretching his arms in a series of strong, powerful strokes that propelled him across the pool. 

He lifted his head at the end and hung on to the edge, closing his eyes and tilted his head back until the water covered his ears, giving everything an ethereal quality. Exhaling, he pulled his head free from the water and turned, several more laps consuming him before he paused again at the edge.

“We need to talk.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m off duty, I’m off the clock and I’m treading water.” He didn’t glance up beyond Cuddy’s nylon encased ankles and inappropriately high heels. “Go away.”

“I’m just curious as to how long after it happened you decided to inform Stacy that you’d managed to move on far enough to fuck the doctor that saved your life. Or did you phrase it a little less indelicately and just blurt out that you fucked your boss?”

House rubbed water from his face with one hand. “So the outrage is only because I told someone?”

“My outrage is that I was blindsided by a visit from your ex-girlfriend...”

“That makes two of us.”

“And over the pleasantries of drinks she implied I must not be a very good lay if I can’t keep you in line by having you between my thighs.”

“Wow. She’s gotten vicious.” House pulled himself up, deliberately sending a shower of water raining down on Cuddy’s leather pumps. 

She didn’t even notice as she squatted down beside him. “Your personal life is just that; however, I will not be humiliated…”

“You have no reason to be humiliated. As drunken first times go, it was pretty top notch.”

“I should have let you kill yourself, you know that? Let you waste away while the muscle just rotted you from the inside out. Anything has to be better than the incomplete state of your decay.”

“I’m helping her. I thought you’d all be pleased. I’m playing nice.” He slipped off the edge and sank back down into the water. Cuddy stared down at him, her eyes hard. “What?”

Her voice was whisper soft. “I put up with a lot from you, Greg.”

He looked away from her gaze down at the reflecting water. “I know.”

“I won’t have my career reduced to a decent lay when you were too drunk to care who it was you were fucking.” She reached out and brushed a wayward clump of hair off his forehead. “And I won’t continue to be punished for saving your life.”

“Lisa…”

“And you owe me a hundred bucks for the shoes.”

**

James opened the door and leaned on the jamb, closing his eyes and sighing softly. “It’s late.”

“I’ve gotten to the point where I’ve forgotten how to be nice to people.” Stacy pursed her lips, attempting to hold back tears. “I just insulted Lisa.”

“And now you’re here to see if you can do the same to me?” He moved back from the doorway and waved her inside. “What happened with Cuddy?”

“I implied that Greg ran roughshod over her.”

“He runs roughshod over everyone.”

“I’m implied that she let him so that he’d sleep with her.”

“I’ll make a note to buy you a copy of How to Win Friends and Influence People for Christmas.” He walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer, holding it up in offering. She shook her head and he opened it for himself. “I know this isn’t easy for you, Stacy.”

“It might have been easier if you’d actually mentioned to Greg that I was married.”

“I didn’t want to have to deal with the fallout. At least this way, he has someone else to hate and a puzzle to solve all in one.” He took a swig and set the bottle on the counter before hoisting himself up. The cool tile against his bare legs sent a shiver of goose bumps across his skin. Stacy stared at his legs for a long moment before reaching for his beer and taking a drink. “He’ll do whatever he has to in order to solve the puzzle, to save his life.”

“I know. If I didn’t know that, I wouldn’t be here.” She offered him the bottle and watched him drink. “Greg’s reputation is far more important to him than any sense of revenge. Of course, Greg’s a twisted bastard and just as likely to find the cure and tell me about it, but refuse to do anything more.”

“He wouldn’t let someone die just to spite you. You weren’t that important to him.”

“Ouch. Thanks, I think.”

“House lives for the challenge. Maybe that’s because it’s all he has to live for, but it’s his life now.”

“Is he seeing anyone? Besides Lisa?”

“He ‘saw’ Cuddy, as you put it, exactly twice. Ever since then they’ve been colleagues and co-workers and nothing more. As for anyone else,” Wilson shrugged. “I’m not going to offer you up ammunition to use against him.”

“So there is someone.”

“He won’t let there be someone. Whether that’s because he’s still in love with you or because you nearly destroyed him, I can’t say.” He finished his beer and tossed the bottle into the recycling bin. “He’ll save your husband’s life, Stacy. Do your best not to let him destroy anyone else’s life in the process.”

**

“That’s House’s ex-girlfriend?” Foreman raised his eyebrows as Chase let out a low whistle. “Damn.”

“You’re how old now?” Cameron snapped. “Twelve?”

“Well, in case we needed further proof that the date didn’t go well. Ow!” Chase rubbed his arm where Cameron had pinched him. “That hurt.”

“Good.” 

Foreman leaned back, his elbows on the counter. “She is fine.”

“She’s more than fine,” Chase glared at Cameron, inching away from her slightly. “She’s far too good for House.”

“A sentiment I’m sure she would agree with wholeheartedly.” House moved passed them, his hand tight around his cane. “Can we cross ogling off our schedule?” He glanced over as Cameron fell into step with him, Chase and Foreman catching up quickly. “Foreman, take the history.”

“Cameron always takes the history.”

“Chase general lab work.”

“He’s already had…”

”You’re content letting someone else do the work? As I recall, the last time you did that, it got you in trouble, especially if you like dancing.” He stopped and looked at them, tapping his foot as they stared back. “Go.”

“What about me?”

House resumed walking, not answering. Cameron hurried after him, matching his pace. 

“House? What about me?”

“I want you to stay away from this one.”

“What? Why?” She grabbed his arm and jerked on it, bringing him to a sudden stop. He stood rigid, his eyes flashing as he tightened his grip around the head of his cane. “Answer me.”

He opened his mouth to answer her then let his features slide into a snide smile. “No.” He shook off her grip and turned, resuming his stride down the hallway.

“Is this because you’re afraid she’s going to find out that you like me?”

House whirled around and walked back to her, his measured stride emanating a controlled sense of danger. “Dr. Cameron, I have no intention of now, nor any other time in the future, discussing what my feelings for you may or may not be. I also have no intention of hashing out your needy nature in the middle of the corridor of a busy hospital. Now, if you feel the need to continue to question my assignments on this case, feel free to submit said questions in writing in my office. As for right now, I have a patient to cure.”

“You wanted my expertise and knowledge back on the job, back on your team.”

“And then you proceeded to make it something personal. You have no cause to complain, Dr. Cameron, if I do the same.” He raised an eyebrow. “Are we done?”

“No. I…”

He turned on his heel. “Good.”

**

“You look like hell.” Wilson sank onto the couch and stretched his legs out, his heels landing on a thick medical journal in the middle of the coffee table. 

“Quite the compliment. Who ever said House wasn’t a good influence on you?” Cuddy set the cup of coffee she’d just poured down and preceded to pour another. “Don’t you have rounds or clinic duty?”

“Rounds are done. Clinic duty doesn’t start for another two hours.” He accepted the cup from her and blew a puff of air across the surface. “You think anyone had a good night’s sleep last night?”

“Slept like a baby,” Cuddy assured him as she took a hesitant sip. “Mind you, it was a colicky baby.”

“Which do you regret more? Saving his life or sleeping with him.”

Cuddy barked a quick laugh. “Jesus. Is there anyone in the hospital who doesn’t know I fucked him?”

“Most of the hospital, actually. You forget though, Greg and I…”

“No. I don’t ever forget that.” She took another sip of coffee. “Who told her? You or House?”

“I would assume Greg. There were a few rough nights that probably ended with a drunken phone call or two.” He sipped his coffee slowly. “Lisa…”

“Spare me. I certainly don’t need you running after him cleaning up his messes, James. As administrator, that’s my job.” She set her coffee down on the table and managed a smile. “We were both convenient, that’s all it was. No hard feelings. No hearts broken. No sympathy needed.”

“Right.” He sipped his coffee slowly. “There is the matter of Greg himself.”

“You’re much better versed at handling Dr. House than I am, Dr. Wilson.” Cuddy stood and walked to her desk. “In fact, do me a favor when you see him, and kindly remind him he owes me a hundred dollars.”

“Do I want to know why?”

Cuddy smiled. “I don’t know. Do you?”

**

“I’m running a few more labs, but the general tests all come back negative. There’s a question of a thickening in the anterior lower right quadrant of the abdominal wall on ultrasound, but CT and MRI show nothing of significance.” Chase set his clipboard down. “We drew CBC, creatinine, panel one. Leiden factor V is completely negative. There’s no evidence of any sort of blockage in the bile ducts, gall bladder is clear. Kidneys are functioning. UMT is mild to moderate, though there’s significant rebound and guarding.”

“Leukocytes?”

“Negative.” Chase shrugged. “According to all the tests, this guy is completely healthy.”

“Tests lie too.” House looked out the window to the lawn spread below. “Do a EKG and an ECG.”

“Right.” Chase wrote a quick note on his clipboard. “You know, Cameron was convinced you had feelings for her. Foreman and I figured you didn’t have feelings at all.”

“You’re very witty. I’ll be sure to give you a gold star on your review. Witty and prone to selling out to cover his own ass. I’m sure anyone in the industry would be itching to hire you.”

“Why’re you treating this guy? You don’t like him.”

“I don’t like any of my patients. I don’t need to like them.”

“You trying to impress his wife? Hoping that if you cure him she’ll thank you with flowers, candies and a blow job in the doctor’s lounge?”

“She’s already given me a blow job in the doctor’s lounge.” 

“Always nice to walk in on a conversation already in progress.” Cameron’s mouth was a moue of disapproval. “The axial dexa scan is done. Nothing noted in the lumbar spine.”

Foreman sighed and sat down. “I’ve got cultures running.”

“Did you spin the urine?”

“I’ve spun so much urine, my own piss is dizzy.”

Chase cracked a smile. “House was just formulating our next plan of attack.”

“What did the patient’s history show?”

“Nothing. No congenital abnormalities. No family history of heart disease, kidney failure, cancer, diabetes or muscular-skeletal issues. No MS, CF or fibromyalgia. This guy should be as healthy as a horse.”

“Could be a communicable disease?”

“STD?” Chase laughed. “It can’t be from the wife. She’s showing no signs and we know if she had it, House would have it.”

“Maybe he has an alternate condition that would make symptoms show? Something that, combined with some other disease creates symptomology similar to that of kidney stones?”

“What about it, House? Does the little woman have anything we should know about? Chlamydia? Gonorrhea? Syphilis? Herpes?” Chase’s smirk grew with every word. “What’s she carrying around in that impressive package?”

“More brains that anyone saw fit to give you,” House noted. “Screen for STDs and do an angiogram. If there’s a test we have that we haven’t tried? Find it and run it.”

“Cuddy won’t approve…”

“Cuddy will approve, but only if you ask her. Do you really think it’s necessary to ask her?” Chase and Foreman got to their feet, Chase’s smile still intact. “Dr. Chase?”

He turned. “Yes, Dr. House?”

“I want blood serology on both of them just in case you’re right.”

“You’re admitting I’m right?”

“Run a serum progesterone and beta HCG.” He deliberately didn’t glance at Cameron. “Just to be thorough.”

“You can’t do that.”

“If it’s negative, it won’t matter.”

“And if it isn’t?” She got to her feet and walked over to him, getting in front of him so that he had no choice but to look at her. “Is it going to matter?”

“Only to me.”

“You have no right.”

“Don’t worry your pretty little ethical head about it.” He moved around her toward his office. “If the test is positive, she’ll know soon enough.”

**

“No one’s telling me anything.” 

“Doctors are annoying and secretive.” House poured himself a cup of coffee and dumped two packets of sugar into it. “We like the mystique it lends us. It’s sort of the same thing with the lab coat.”

“You don’t wear a lab coat.”

“Yeah, well, I like to seem approachable.”

“Until you open your mouth.” She sank down at the table and fingered the strip of tape across her inner elbow. “Have you learned anything?”

“We’ve learned what it’s not.” He sat down across from her, resting the head of his cane on the tabletop. “Which is good, because there’s a lot of things it’s not. We’ve also learned that you’re completely free of any and all sexually transmitted diseases including pregnancy.”

“You checked to see if I was pregnant?”

“If it’s a congenital disease, we wanted to be prepared should you be pregnant.”

“You wanted to be a nosy bastard.” Her mouth thinned to a line. “My sex life is not your concern.”

“True, perhaps.” He took a drink of his coffee, giving her a sharp smile as he set it back on the table. “Your husband’s, however, is. Or did you just want me to look at certain things in an attempt to keep him alive?”

“And my husband? Is he free of all sexually transmitted diseases?”

“He’s not pregnant either.”

“Fuck you, Greg.” She got to her feet. “I should report you and this. You’re meddling into my private life…”

“Your husband got sick during your private life.” He didn’t raise his voice, though it deepened, hardened. “If you want me to cure him, I’m going to have to poke in all the dark corners of it. There’s a trigger somewhere and I have to find the smoking gun. If you’ve got something you want to hide, that’s not my fault.” He lifted his cup with both hands. “On the other hand, I’ve seen all the dark places you want to hide, so there’s very little that’s going to surprise me. Unless, of course, you’ve turned into a drug dealing, drug using prostitute in the intervening five years. In that case, I don’t know you at all.”

“Either way, Greg, you don’t know me at all.”

“Whose fault is that?” He spoke the words quietly. “Because I’m finding it a little difficult to reconcile the blame with the fact that you left me.”

“What choice did I have? What choice did you give me? You treated me like I was some sort of war criminal, Greg. I made a choice that saved your life and you were too busy being indignant to be grateful, too busy becoming what you are today to even acknowledge that what I did kept you alive.”

“Yes, and this constant pain has just made life worth living.”

“You wouldn’t let them take the leg.”

“And you didn’t have the guts enough to let them do it, did you? Couldn’t go all the way in your betrayal?”

“You ungrateful son of a bitch.”

“Dr. House?”

House snapped his mouth closed then turned his attention to the door. His voice practically hissed through his teeth. “Yes, Dr. Cameron?”

“I…”

“You?”

She started to say something then stopped. Stacy looked Cameron up and down and shook her head. “Jesus, Greg. Do you even wait for them to get out of medical school these days?”

“I beg your pardon?” Cameron snapped.

“You’d be better off begging for mercy, sweetheart.” Stacy brushed passed her on the way to the door. “You’ll need it if you’re sleeping with him.”

**

“I’m sorry.” House didn’t say anything as he refilled his coffee cup. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything, I…”

“Why are you here, Dr. Cameron?”

“Pardon?”

“Not here in an existential sense, so don’t get your Kierkegaard up. You interrupted for a reason, I would assume.” He took a sip then looked at her expectantly. “So why are you here?”

“Did you want us to authorize a lumbar puncture?”

“Or were you just walking by and wanted to make your presence known? Pissing on your territory as it were.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think you do.” He rolled his neck. “A very male show of testosterone.”

“I came in to ask you about the spinal tap.”

“On a case you’re not assigned to.” House took a drink of coffee and made a face, adding more sugar. “You came in here to size up the competition. Tell me, what do you think?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Ignorance isn’t an attractive feature, Dr. Cameron. Surely someone back in your formative days taught you that. Faked ignorance is even less glamorous. You’ve seen her; you’ve heard all the whispered ramblings. What do you think?”

“I think that I only know part of the story.”

“But it’s the part that lets you pass down petty judgments based on pure, simple jealousy, isn’t it?”

“She’s concerned for her husband. She wants to know what’s going on. In that respect, she’s like every other loved one roaming the halls. She’s using her past relationship to press buttons in an effort to make you work faster and find a cure. I tend to think it’s counterproductive.”

“Says the queen of the passive-aggressive come-on?” House smiled. “You think you could take her in, say, naked pudding wrestling?”

“You’re the emotional equivalent of a five year old.”

“Thirteen, I’d say. Five year olds don’t fantasize about big breasted women covered in snack food.” He walked back to the window and stared out, sighing softly. “It does beg the question of why, if you deny my analysis of it, you’re interested in me.”

“You want a rational explanation of a feeling.” Cameron walked up behind him, standing just a shade too close. 

“By my recollection, Dr. Cameron, you’ve never admitted to having feelings for me. You’ve acquiesced to some extent when I asked you why you liked me, though it was more an effort to turn it around to get some sort of positive response from me. You’ve pursued me. But, as of yet, you’ve yet to admit that you feel anything.”

“Is that what you want me to do?”

“I don’t want anything from you, Dr. Cameron, except that you do your job.” He smiled to himself. “And maybe an occasional naked massage.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“Yeah. She is.” He paused, listening to her silence. “Were you expecting more than that?”

“From you? No.”

**

“Sed rate?”

“Nope.”

“Chem 7?”

“Negative.”

“Does he have any blood left?” 

“Fuck off,” House snapped. “Unless you’re here to help.”

“I could make lines on the white board.”

House glared at Wilson then turned back to Cameron, Chase and Foreman. “Run titres and set up another CT scan first thing. After that, go home, go out. Go…wherever.” He waited until they’d gathered their things and left before sinking down into a chair and stretching his legs out, wincing as he stretched his thigh muscle. “I’m surprised I haven’t seen you before now.”

“People keep getting cancer. It keeps me busy.”

“I’m sure.” He rubbed his head, one hand reaching into his pocket for his vicodin. He thumbed the lid off and shook two out, dry swallowing them. “I’ll want a bone biopsy this week.”

“Cameron already scheduled it.”

He moved his hand down to his eyes and rubbed them with his thumb and forefingers. “Christ, I’m tired.”

“You should go home. Get some sleep.”

“I should go home and drink.”

“I’m sure that would sharpen your mental faculties.”

“I was really just hoping it would dull everything else.” He tapped his thigh then rubbed his hand over the offending muscle. “You know, I’m damned either way.”

“Some would say you’ve been damned for a long time, but what do you mean?”

“If I cure him, she’s going to be grateful, but she’ll be gone. Back to her life of wedded bliss, happy and content in knowing that whatever it was is gone.”

“Assuming it’s curable.”

“If I don’t or if I can’t, she’ll blame me. Or won’t believe me. And she’ll leave and go back to her wedded bliss until he drops dead, bleeds out or decomposes spontaneously in the middle of sex.”

“You paint such a pretty picture.”

“I thought I was over it. Over her. But the second I saw her, everything flooded back. All the good stuff followed very swiftly by all the bad stuff. And, you know, for the bad stuff only lasting a couple of months? It strongly overshadowed all the good stuff.”

“You were vicious.”

“Yeah. Something about having my personal wishes diverted to her own made me a little crazy.”

“Being wrong made you a little crazy. Having her opt for your surgery without your consent made you a full-fledged maniac.” James blew out a breath. “Do you want her back, Greg?”

House lifted his gaze to Wilson’s at the sound of his name. “I want…Hell, I don’t know what I want.”

“Maybe if you figure out what’s making him sick, you’ll figure that out too.”

“Maybe.”

Wilson got to his feet. “Why don’t you take your own advice and go home and get some sleep.”

“Right.”

“And Cuddy wants me to remind you that you owe her a hundred bucks?”

House laughed. “Right.”

**

Stacy held up her hand as Foreman opened his mouth. “Don’t bother to tell me anything, since you don’t know anything. When you have a definitive diagnosis we can talk.”

“They say doctors make the worst patients.” Foreman grabbed the chart and moved over to the monitors. “They neglect to mention that doctor’s wives are even worse.”

“Is this where we get into some ode to Greg? Are you going to sing his praises over the unconscious body of my husband?”

“No. I think House is a self-serving, self-righteous jerk. The problem is that he’s right most of the time, which makes it tough to disrespect him, even if I don’t like him.” He set the chart back on the table. “He’ll figure this out and he’ll tell you the truth, whether you want to hear it or not.”

“What happened to everybody lies?”

“House doesn’t. Not to patients, not unless it’s to get them to do something they’re afraid of doing but that will save their lives. The only person House lies to on a regular basis is himself.”

“Is this where you tell me he’s a shell of the man he was before I left him?”

“Lady, I didn’t know him before you met him, and I don’t care about your personal problems or personal connection. My job is to help find what’s making your husband sick and that’s what I’m going to do. If you’ve got issues with House, you take them up with House and let me do my job.”

Stacy opened her mouth then closed it. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ve been so…this has been going on for so long and the waiting…” She took a deep breath. “Sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” Foreman smiled. “We’re going to do a bone biopsy today. We’ll need you to sign the consent forms given his unconscious state.” She nodded as he held them out to her. “We will find out what’s causing all of this.”

“I know. I just hope it won’t be too late.” Stacy set the pen down after scrawling her signature on the form. “I’m tired of too late.”

**

“Negative. Negative.” House slammed his cane against the light with each film. “Negative. Negative. Negative.” He flinched as the last smack of the cane cracked the protective glass and the fluorescent bulb behind it shattered with a loud snap. “Fuck.”

“Now you owe me more than a hundred dollars.”

“Take it out of my paycheck.” House closed his eyes and tilted his head backward, fighting to breathe evenly. After a long silence he sighed. “What?”

“Dr. Femerton called from Chicago. He got the fax. His findings were the same as yours.”

“Negative.”

Cuddy nodded once, “Yes.”

“I would kill for a nice, simple case of leprosy right now. Bubonic plague? The Andromeda Strain?”

“I placed a call to Professor Kristoff in Brussels. I sent a copy of the films to him.” She reached out, brushing the tips of her fingers over his shoulder. “Have you slept at all?”

He closed his eyes tightly then forced them open. “No.”

“House, you can’t function on no sleep. Let the team handle things today. Go home, take a couple of vicodin and get some sleep.”

“Promoting drug use in your employees, Dr. Cuddy?”

“As if you need cheerleading.” She turned him and guided him toward the door. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

“That would be a decidedly bad idea.” He shrugged off her light grip. “I have enough of my past coming back to haunt me these days, thank you. I really don’t need more.” He stopped and turned slightly, holding her gaze. “Not that I’d be opposed to you tucking me inside you.”

“You are tired. You’re only vaguely disgusting and inappropriate.” She touched his temple softly. “Go home, Greg.”

“Nobody calls me Greg and then all of a sudden, it’s the name of the hour.” He put up minimal resistance to her insistent pushing. “All right. I’m going. You’ll call me when Kristoff calls?”

“Absolutely.” She stopped, watching him walk away. “House?” He turned, lifting his chin despite his tired eyes. “You’ll figure this out.”

“I know.”

**

Cameron sat at the lunch table and picked at her salad.

“I think the lettuce is innocent of any wrongdoing.” Wilson slid onto the chair opposite her. “The carrot, now, there’s a shifty character.”

“You’re eating a Rueben sandwich and you dare to call my lunch offensive?”

”I was more implying criminal, but point taken.” Wilson picked up his sandwich and held it out to her. “Bite?”

“No. Thanks.” She stabbed the lettuce again, this time lifting it to her mouth. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Absolutely.” He took a bite then set the sandwich down, wiping mustard from the edges of his mouth. “I’ll even do my best to answer it, given that you’re going to probably ask me something you have no need or right to know.”

“Obviously they were close. He’d given her the ability to make decisions for him if he was incapacitated.”

“Assuming, as he was at the time, that he would never be incapacitated or that she would so brazenly go against his wishes, but go on.”

“Why weren’t they married?”

“You don’t have to be married to be committed to someone. Marriage doesn’t make your choices any more valid if your dedicated to making the relationship work.” Wilson smirked. “In fact, marriage is often worse for a relationship.” He took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. “I would guess that they just hadn’t gotten around to it.”

“But you were friends with them, right?”

“And you think that the leg injury is what made House this way? He was easy to be around prior to it?” Wilson took another bite as he shook his head. 

“Right.” Cameron speared another bite of lettuce. “I understand a little bit better what you meant about him. I went about this all the wrong way.”

“You went about it the only way you knew how. He’s not an easy man to like, let alone love. Whatever happened between you two that night is your own business, but I can guarantee you that whatever he said, he said to protect you as much as to protect himself.” He took a drink from his coffee. “He’s keeping you off the case.”

“He was.”

”And then you met Stacy?”

“She didn’t seem to like me very much.”

“That won’t change.” He rubbed his forehead. “Can I ask you a question now?”

“Sure.”

“And I want a real answer, not some glib retort you’ve come up with for Chase and Foreman.”

“Why do I like him?”

“Yeah.”

“You mean besides the fact that he’s smart, determined, witty, and sexy as hell?” She picked up the carrot and nibbled on the end of it. “I guess I’m a glutton for punishment.”

“That’s a given if you’re going to date House. Most women your age wouldn’t see past the cane.”

“Most women my age aren’t experts in their fields and sub-specializing in diagnostic medication. House thinks my protective instincts are in overdrive, that I want to fix him, heal him. I’ll admit that there is a bit of that, but for everything that’s broken about House, there’s something strong and vibrant. When he stands next to me? I want to move closer.”

“Moth to the flame?”

“Singed wings and all.” She shrugged. “But he sees me as weak and helpless. A Pollyanna crossed with Little Mary Sunshine. He wants something more than that.”

“House likes nice. House needs nice.”

“But he doesn’t need me.”

**

Chase stared at the white board, tapping the pen against his chin. 

“It won’t change.”

“Hmmm?” He looked up, shaking his head, his eyes registering surprise at the site of House. “Cuddy said you’d gone home.”

“I went to sleep.”

“For how long?” 

House blinked and looked at his watch. “Twenty minutes or so. You’d think, with so little sleep, the board would change, but it doesn’t. Stubbornly sits there and lists symptoms that add up to everything but what it is.”

“Whatever that is.”

“Yeah, well.” House walked over to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup, dumping three sugars into the dark liquid. “That’s the question.”

“You know, we all know why we got into this – Cameron’s husband’s cancer drove her to make things better for everyone, Foreman wanted out of the neighborhood and a life of crime.”

“You have daddy issues.”

“Why’d you get into it? I mean, it can’t be the joy of helping someone, and it’s not like you had a rough life.”

“I like being right.” House took a long drink from the mug and closed his eyes. “Medicine is science. It’s cause and effect. Do this and this results. Do that and something completely different happens. You learn enough, you work enough and you begin to see the effects and then you know the causes. You guess and, if you’re good, you guess right. If you’re not…”

“Someone dies.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the downside.” He tilted his head back and breathed deeply. “Get a Hida scan.”

“All right.” Chase walked toward the door then stopped, glancing back at the board, refusing to look at House. “I didn’t do it because of you.”

“You did it because you don’t give yourself credit for what you know and what you can do. You assumed, probably rightly so, that if it came down to it, I’d toss you out on your ass. The problem is that Vogler’s gone and we’re both still here.”

“And we have to work together.”

“No. We both have work to do. Schedule the Hida scan.” House barely covered a yawn. “And if you want to work you way back into my good graces, or even want to make me think you’re less of an ass? Don’t tell Cuddy I’m here.”

**

“You’re here late.” 

Cuddy yawned behind her hand and nodded. “I sent House home to get some sleep.” She fell in step with Wilson, making their way to her office. “Not that I think he went or actually managed to get any sleep wherever he did end up, but think of all the money I saved on law suits by keeping him from working on patients.”

“Maybe this is all a conspiracy to fool you into thinking there’s actually an illness when really it’s just a ploy to get out of clinic hours.”

“Don’t suggest that to House.” She sank down onto the couch and slipped off her shoes, pulling her legs up onto the cushions. Wilson sat down beside her feet, closing his eyes as she leaned onto the pillow. Cuddy yawned again. “God, I’m tired.”

“Mmm.” Wilson reached out and caught one of her feet, pulling it onto his lap. His thumbs stroked the high arch before sliding up to the ball of her foot, rubbing the warm skin through her nylons. “You need more sensible shoes.”

“Is that your professional opinion, doctor?” She turned slightly, stretching out and sliding her other foot into his lap. 

“Should I recite the statistics of health problems caused by high heels?”

“There are two things you should know before this conversation continues.”

“Oh?” Wilson picked up her other foot and treated it to the same soft ministrations. “What are those?”

“One, that feel incredibly good.”

Wilson shifted, one thumb still moving on the sole of her foot while the other edged up over her ankle to her low calf. “And the other?”

“I look incredibly sexy in high heels.” She yawned again the gave a soft little moan as he squeezed her calf just below her knee then repeated the gesture all the way down to her ankle. “So keep your information about shin splints and fallen arches and deformed toes and muscle spasms.”

He chuckled low and soft, turning slightly, bringing one knee up onto the couch. “You do look very nice in high heels.” He ran his hand up her calf again, closing his eyes as her other foot shifted, fitting against his suddenly burgeoning erection. “And this is a very bad idea.”

“Mmm,” she murmured in quiet agreement as he began smoothing his hand over the top of her leg, rubbing her skin with just enough force to press it harder against his cock. “Sleepy.” 

Wilson gave a little moan as he moved her feet off his lap and angled up over her, bracing himself above her as she stretched languidly beneath him. Her hair fanned around her face and she opened her eyes slowly, the soft mist of sleep darkening her gaze. “Very bad.”

She reached up and snaked a hand behind his neck, pulling him down toward her. He muttered a soft curse as their lips touched, jerking back as her phone rang with a shrill bleat.

Cuddy scrambled into a sitting position as Wilson knelt on the other end of the couch. She shoved her hair back as she reached forward and picked up the receiver. The slight edge to her voice faded as she spoke, ignoring Wilson’s gaze as she reached into his lab coat pocket for his cell phone and punched in a series of numbers.

She’d barely hung up the phone when her office door opened and House strode in, his gait stumbling slightly at the sight of both of them. “Well, it must be important to interrupt a tête à tête, hmmm?”

“I just got off the phone with Kristoff.” Cuddy ran her hand through her hair again, sliding it out as she realized both men were watching her. “He asked if you’d looked at the left panel in the outer quadrant. Image seven.”

“Hypoechoic area,” House nodded. “Heterogeneous mass. Yeah.”

“Damn.”

“Sorry that I already knew the important information you stopped making out for?” He cut a glance to Wilson. “The wife’s going to love you in that shade of coral. It really brings out your eyes.”

Cuddy glanced at Wilson, clenching her hands into fists to keep from reaching out and rubbing the small smudge of lipstick that stained his lip. “What’s our next plan?”

“Chase ordered a Hida scan. We’ve started him on naproxen to reduce edema in the lower extremities. He’s developed some bright red spots on his lower legs bringing us the possibility of deep vein thrombosis. The results of the bone biopsy were enough that we’re beginning treatment for thrombocytopenia. He didn’t respond to prednisone, so we’re giving him high dose gamma globulin injections. Of course, with that we can’t place him on warfarin to reduce the risk of blood clots, so we’re going to give him a shot of enoxaparin in a low dose to see how it goes.” House blew out a breath. “I…appreciate,” he paused and closed his eyes tightly before looking at them both again. “I appreciate everything you’re doing. For the patient.” He shook his head. “For me.”

“This wasn’t about you, House.”

He nodded once, his eyes holding Cuddy’s. “Maybe you should follow your own advice and go home and get some sleep.” He managed a weak smirk. “Alone.”

The door closed behind him and Wilson got to his feet, walking away from the couch as Cuddy slowly dropped her feet and slid her shoes on. “I’m sorry.”

“For kissing me or for getting caught?” She shook her head as she stood. “Don’t answer that. I think I’m too tired to want to know.” She reached back and twisted her hair, pulling it away from her face and into a thick ponytail. “Goodnight, James.”

He started to leave, stopping as she placed her hand against his chest. He looked down at her as she swept her thumb across his lip, stealing away the evidence of their kiss. He nodded sadly. “Goodnight.”

**

“He’s not getting better.”

“On the bright side, he’s not getting worse.” House kept walking, smirking slightly to himself as Stacy rushed to keep up. “And he’s not dead. So, all in all, I think things are going your way.”

“Greg.” She stopped walking, slightly breathless. He continued on, stopping several paces past her before turning. “This matters to me.”

“I’m well aware of your devotion to your husband. Good to see you sticking by him in sickness and in health. Must have learned that one after you left me, hmm?”

“Do you really see yourself as some sort of victim here? You were just as guilty of driving me away as I was of leaving you behind.” She walked up to him, dropping her voice. “What do you want from me, Greg? Tell me what it is, and I’ll do it. Do you want an apology? Do you want me to take all the blame? Do you want me to tell you I did the wrong thing, that I’d take it all back?”

“Have dinner with me.”

“What?”

“Dinner. Have dinner with me.”

“I’m a married woman.”

“I said dinner, not sex. You used to know the difference.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“That’s what you want? You don’t care about any of our history, any of the things that went wrong between us? You just want a nice steak, a bottle of wine and everything will be all right?”

“No. I need there to be salad and garlic bread. I’m partial to garlic bread.” He shrugged. “Seven o’clock?”

“Assuming you haven’t cured or killed my husband before then.” She nodded once. “Fine. Seven.” She gave him a look of thick disgust. “I’ll see you then.”

House watched her walk away, his hand in motion as he continued to alter his grip on his cane. “What do you think, Cameron?” He glanced over at her, standing in the hallway juncture. “Did I learn from the master?”

“The corsage was a nice touch. You might want to do that again.”

“Thanks for the tip. What are you doing,” he looked at his watch, “in about four hours?”

“Rounds.”

“We’ve got three hours of waiting for the Hida scan. I need your help.”

“Why?”

“I need to buy a pair of shoes.”

**

Stacy leaned against the wall, the edge of her thumb trapped between her teeth as Chase and Foreman made the final adjustments. They stepped back as the scan began, Foreman looking in her direction. “It’s going to be at least three hours.” He nodded toward the door. “You want a cup of coffee?”

She stared past them at her husband. “Yes. Thank you.”

They walked toward the conference room, none of them speaking. Chase had just opened the glass door when she broke the silence. 

“Where is Greg?”

Foreman and Chase both glanced toward the office. Chase raised his eyebrows and smiled. Foreman rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Cuddy sent him home. As much as he thrives on pressure, House does need sleep.” He moved to the coffee pot. “How do you take it?”

“Black’s fine.” She sank down at the table. “What will this test tell us?”

“It’s a scan of his gall bladder, liver, bile ducts and intestines. If radioactivity is seen in the intestine but not the gall bladder, it’ll let us know there’s a blockage – cystic or otherwise.” 

“What was he like?”

“Chase.” Foreman shook his head again. “Jesus, man.”

Stacy gave Foreman a smile. “No. It’s okay. I’ve been expecting this.” She looked past both of them toward House’s desk. “He wasn’t that different. Before the infarction he was sarcastic, self-assured and egotistical.”

“No. Not so different.”

She gave Chase a smile. “But he was devoted. He loved me. He didn’t hate his patients nearly as much and he didn’t blatantly disregard authority every time.”

Foreman set the coffee in front of her and she wrapped both hands around the mug. “He told us you signed the consent for the surgery.”

“Lisa’s plan was the only way to keep him alive.”

“Wait,” Chase’s eyes widened as he sat and stared at her. “Lisa. Lisa Cuddy? She was House’s doctor?”

“That actually explains a lot.” Foreman stirred his coffee. “So, what happened?”

“He woke up and he knew. Maybe he knew I would do it. Maybe that’s why he requested the coma. Either way, we both knew it was as good as over. Greg put me to the test, and I failed.”

“You saved his life.”

“And in doing so, I reinforced all his beliefs about the worst in people. He was distant. He was angry. He refused physical therapy and took percocet for a month. Then he switched to Vicodin and went back to work.” She shrugged and sipped her cold coffee. “Eventually I got tired of apologizing for doing the right thing. I couldn’t offer penance like Lisa could, so I left.”

“And got married.”

“Not immediately.” She took another sip and made a face. “He never could make decent coffee.” She pushed the mug away. “And before you ask, coming here was hard, but asking for Greg’s help was infinitely easier than watching my husband die.”

“Assuming House can cure him.”

Stacy gave Chase a knowing look. “Greg will find a cure. Otherwise he won’t have a chance for revenge.”

**

Cameron glanced over at House then back at the road. “Why do you need my help buying shoes?”

“Well, you’re a woman. I’m buying women’s shoes.”

“Dare I ask why?”

“Walking isn’t challenging enough. I thought I’d try it in three inch heels.”

“I never pictured you as the cross-dressing type.”

“Only because you haven’t seen my legs.” He tapped the steering wheel. “I guess I can know me dressing as a naughty schoolgirl off our list of prospective sexual antics.”

“We have a list of prospective sexual antics?”

“We don’t?”

“Not that I thought you’d ever admit to.” She turned her body so that she was facing him. “Why are we buying women’s shoes?”

“Was there something about my previous explanation that rang false?” He shrugged when she didn’t answer. “Ah well.” He parked the car and got out, rocking back and forth on his feet as he waited for her to join him. “The bigger question is why, when you know I’m going to be buying women’s shoes, are you coming with me?”

“Self-preservation.”

“Oh?” House asked with a smile. “How so?”

“Well, if they’re for another woman that strikes me as competition. If she’s competition, I can do my best to sabotage the purchase.”

“What if I told you they were for Stacy?”

“I’d probably steer you toward a pair of nice, sensible shoes. Maybe a pair of low russet pumps that would fit well with her professional demeanor and yet not seem out of place at hospital functions she attends with her husband.”

“Should he survive.”

“As if your ego would allow anything else.”

He pushed the door to the shop open and waited for her to enter. “And if I were buying her shoes all by myself?”

She picked up a pair of shimmering pumps, the heel see-through and at least five inches high. She waved it at him and shrugged. “Am I wrong?”

He took the shoe out of her hand and put it back, stroking the leather upper with his thumb before giving her a sidelong glance. “And what if they’re for you?”

“I’d probably suggest something smart and sensible.”

“Really?”

She made a non-committal noise then picked up a pair of red leather pumps that made the previous pair look sedate. “Or these.”

“Oh.” House took the shoe from her hand. “Disparate choices, Dr. Cameron.”

“I’m an enigma.”

“You’re an open book, though it’s nice to know it’s more Riding Little Red than Little Red Riding Hood.” He set the shoe back on the display. “And what if I told you the shoes were for Cuddy?”

“I’d wonder if you were actually planning on dating the entire staff, because I think there’s a nursing aide or RN you might have missed.”

“Should I get green shoes for you to match that lovely shade of jealousy?” He found a pair of lilac heels. “Do these say Cuddy?”

“They say something about what you want to do to her.”

House smiled and thumbed the heel. “Hmmm.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Mmm.” He set the shoe down. “Probably true. Come on. You were more than ready with your opinion a few minutes ago.” He held up a grey pair. “These?”

“You really don’t strike me as the type who needs someone else to tell him what he likes his women wearing.”

He showed her a pair of black pumps with six-inch heels. “These?”

“Maybe a pair of black, thigh-high, leather boots?”

“Do you see a pair?”

“Did I mention you’re disgusting?”

“You suggested them. I was just giving you the validation you seem to so desperately need.” He walked away from her toward another display.

“You know, for someone who claims to need it, you certainly don’t foster the desire to help.”

“No. I’m sure that’s not the desire I foster in you.” He looked at her foot. “Try this on.”

“That’s not my size.”

“Vanity, thy name is woman. Uma Thurman’s got feet like Frankenstein. Men still want to have sex with her. Try them on.”

Cameron took the shoe from his hand and stalked over to a row of chairs. She took off her shoe then tried his choice on, standing up to show him. “Well?”

“Nice. Perfect fit.” He turned to the clerk who was watching them. “Give me these two sizes smaller.”

“Two sizes smaller and they won’t fit her, sir.”

“Good thing they’re not for her then, isn’t it?”

**

Cuddy shifted the bundle of paperwork in her arms as she reached for the door. Her fingers brushed against cool metal then warm flesh. Her eyes jerked up and a quick flush stained her cheeks.

“Allow me.” Wilson leaned against the door as she walked in then fell in step with her, taking half the load from her arms. 

Cuddy cleared her throat and managed a smile. “Thank you.”

“Your office?”

“Yes.” She cleared her throat again. “Er, yes.”

He smiled and waited as she unlocked her office door. She proceeded him inside and hurried up to her desk. “You can just set those anywhere.”

Wilson walked toward her, edging past her to set the pile on her desk. That done, he turned and smiled.

“Would you…” She moved toward the side of the room, grabbing the coffee pot and walking it to the sink. “Coffee?”

“Coffee would be great. Late night last night.”

Cuddy shrieked softly as she splashed water off the spout of the pot. “Sorry.”

“Hopefully the clinic won’t be quite so bad today.”

“Right.” She poured the water into the coffee maker and turned it on. “I’m sure we can push the overflow onto someone else tonight.”

“I don’t have anything better to do.” Wilson moved closer, leaning against the counter beside her.

“Oh?”

“Julie’s got other plans.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. It’s not my…” She stopped, cut off as Wilson’s hand snaked through her hair and he pulled her closer, his mouth fitting over hers. Cuddy mewled softly as she opened her mouth, allowing his tongue to invade her.

She pulled back, eyes wide, lips parted, breath spilling raggedly. “Dr. Wilson…”

“Late night had nothing to do with clinic hours, Dr. Cuddy.” He let his hand slide free from her hair, his thumb brushing her lower lip.

Cuddy stared up at him, the fall of her chest speeding up. “This is a very bad idea.”

“I’m much nicer than Greg.”

“That’s why it’s a bad idea.”

He kissed her again softly then pulled away. “All right.”

“And you’re married.”

He needed, his hand falling to his side. “Okay.” 

She glanced away from his sad eyes. “Coffee’s done.”

“It’s all right,” Wilson’s smile matched his eyes. “I’m not all that thirsty.”

**

“What do we know from the scan?”

“Radioactivity showed up everywhere.” Foreman tossed the report onto the table. “No blockages.”

“All right. Let’s look this over again.” He tapped the white board. “Let’s get liver functions again. Send him down to radiology for another scan. I want a check on his antiphospholipids as well as screening for Behcet’s disease.” He looked them over. “Any other ideas?”

“Cavography?”

“Pressure measurements as well?”

“Fine.” House nodded once. “Do that. Cameron, schedule a liver biopsy. Did we look for cirrhoisis?”

“I’ll get it done.” 

“Fine. Check for ascites.” He stared at them for a long moment. “Are you waiting for a cookie?”

Chase nodded toward the door. “No. Just waiting.”

House looked at Stacy and sighed. “Don’t you people have tests to run?” When they didn’t move, he smacked his cane on the table between Cameron and Chase. “Now.”

They left the room, brushing past Stacy with varying degrees of greeting. She barely acknowledged them as she walked toward House, stopping in front of the board. “This is what your patients are to you, right?” She ran her finger through one of the words and cut it in half. “Just colored words on a board.”

“Presenting and developing symptoms. Would you rather we focused on the fact that he wore a blue suit to the office on Friday and really liked puppies?” He moved around her and headed for his office. “You want me to cure him, you’re going to have to live with the fact that I don’t want to be his buddy.”

“Have you even seen him? Or is he just a pin cushion for you to order them to stick another needle in? Pump him full of radioactive ions, cut him open, dig out his bone marrow. You’re just exacting your revenge on my through him.”

“You came to me.”

“I came to you for help.” She slammed her fist on his desk. “I came to you because I had nowhere else to go.” She looked away, turning her face from him. “Do you think this is easy for me, Greg? Fun?”

“Shouldn’t you be with your very sick husband?” He leaned against the shelf that lined the window. “Wouldn’t that be a better place for you?”

“What do you want from me, Greg? You want me to apologize again? Do you want me to be sorry I kept you alive? Do you want me to beg?”

“No.”

She got down on her knees and stared up at him, eyes flashing with emotion. “Please, Greg.”

“Get up.”

“Please. I’m begging you.”

He grabbed her arm and jerked her upward, refusing to let go until she got to her feet. “I don’t want anything from you.”

“Liar.” She grit her teeth as she wiped her eyes, looking away as she did so. “I’ll give you anything, Greg.”

“And with that heartfelt pledge, how could I ask for more.” He turned and walked back to the window. “I don’t want anything, Stacy. You did what you thought you had to do.”

“Oh,” She laughed, “so this is forgiveness? You’re going to cure my husband to show how magnanimous you are? How repentant you are for the way you acted, the way you treated me?” She strode up to him and leaned in. “I’d believe it, if it were anyone but you.”

“Wow, and why would anyone wonder why I would want to help you?” He started to move around her, stopping as she grabbed his arm. “Do you want me to find a cure, or did you just want to keep arguing?”

“I want you.”

He froze, his face lit by a flash of pain. “I don’t recall that being one of the choices.” 

She released his arm and touched his cheek, fingers feathering over the stubble. She swallowed hard. “I want you.”

“That wouldn’t be wise.” He admonished, bending his head so that his lips just brushed hers. “Really ill-advised.”

She nodded, licking her lips and his at once. “Yes.”

House groaned and wrapped his arm around her, bringing her against him. She whispered his name and bit at his lower lip until he opened his mouth, pressing his tongue between her lips. 

Stacy shuddered in his arms, her hands sliding up his shoulders and around his neck as she deepened the kiss, insinuating herself against him. House pulled back, taking a deep breath. “Most husbands really disapprove of this behavior.”

“He won’t notice.”

“Are you trying to inspire me to cure him?” House kissed her again, his hand stroking through the silky strands of her hair. “Because you’re doing a terrible job.”

“I thought this was incentive.”

“You love him?”

She pulled back, her eyes narrowing. “Yes.”

“Is he aware of how you show it?”

Her slap sounded sharply through the office. “You’re an ass.”

“And you’re a liar. The difference between us is that I’ve never pretended to be anything else.”

**

“Any progress?”

House didn’t look up from his Game Boy. “I don’t know. What base did you and Cuddy get to?”

“You’re not amusing.”

“Au contraire, my friend. In some circles, I’m a veritable Gallagher.”

“Gallagher isn’t amusing.” Wilson sat down opposite House and put his feet up. “I might have been talking about your case.”

“They’re doing a liver biopsy for cirrhosis now.” He snapped the game off. “But seriously. How far did you get with Cuddy?”

“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer.”

“Aw, not all the way. Oh well.” He gave Wilson an exaggerated wink. “Maybe next time.”

“Can we talk about your case?”

“But Cuddy is much hotter than Stacy’s husband. I’d rather talk about her. Did you feel her tits?”

“House. I’m not going to talk about Cuddy with you. First of all, it’s none of your business. Secondly, you’re like a 12 year old looking for porn in your big brother’s closet. And thirdly, why do you care? You’ve already walked down the path, my friend.”

“That’s exactly why, well, except the second one. I like to think my tastes are a little more refined than they were when I was 12. Back then, I only cared if they had big tits. Now I care that they have big tits and are willing to let me touch them.”

“You’re drooling.”

House laughed and tossed his Game Boy onto his desk, dropping his feet down to the floor. “Yeah, well, do you blame me?” He got up and moved to the window, pulling his vicodin from his pocket. He dry swallowed one and tapped the window with the base of his cane. “What are you thinking, James?”

“I don’t know that I am thinking.” He laughed, though it held very little amusement. “It just sort of happened.”

“All the good things do.” He turned and faced his friend, sitting on his bookcase. “Be careful.”

“Cuddy’s not that much of a barracuda.”

“Are you kidding? She’d eat you for breakfast.” He laughed as Wilson blushed. “Only you would take that the wrong way.”

“Did I?”

“Well,” House shrugged. “No. Not really.” He was about to say more when the door swung open and Cuddy walked in, stopping mid-stride as Wilson turned in his seat. “Doctor Cuddy. We were just discussing you.”

“Why does that prospect fill me with horror?” She sat on the edge of House’s desk away from Wilson. “Would you care to address the rumor that’s flying around the hospital that you were seen making advances toward your patient’s wife?”

“Would the response that she kissed me first work here?”

“No. House, you are a doctor.”

His eyebrow shot up. “And doctors aren’t allowed to kiss?” He leaned to the side so he had a clear view of Wilson and rubbed his pointer finger over the other. “No, no, James. No kissing.”

“Doctors are not allowed to kiss the wives of their current patients!”

“Wife. Singular.”

“Patient. Singular!” She shook her head, throwing up her hands. “This is not General Hospital, House.”

“Said the hospital administrative head who was making out with the married head of oncology in her office?”

“Dammit, House!” Cuddy refused to look at Wilson as she got to her feet. “I will not have you undermining this hospital for your own personal pleasure. Other people see you and it’s bad enough you get away with what you do. I know you have a past with Stacy, but it will not be played out here. Not under my jurisdiction.”

She turned on her heel and started for the door. “You know, if you keep acting jealous, Wilson here might get his feelings hurt.”

“Jealous?” Cuddy whirled back around and strode up to him. “You can rest assured, Dr. House, that there is no shred of any feeling, especially jealousy, when it comes to me and you. You can kiss whomever you like whenever you like, so long as it is not the wife of your patient and during working hours.”

“Which sort of negates the whoever and whenever parts of that statement.”

“What about Cameron?” Wilson threw in. “Can he kiss Cameron? Because I think he wants to do that.”

“You’ve got no room to talk,” House reminded him. “You want to get into Cuddy’s pants. Or skirts, as the case may be.”

“Never mind. No kissing anyone, anywhere on hospital grounds.” She glared at Wilson and stalked to the door, turning at the last minute to hit both of them with her angry stare. “Either of you.”

House shrugged as he sat down, his smile dangerously wide as Wilson’s eyebrow rose pointedly. “She started it.”

**

“So, you’re Greg’s latest play thing, are you?”

Cameron looked up from the microscope. “I’m sorry, only authorized personnel are allowed in the lab.”

“What’s the matter? Afraid I’ll say the things you don’t want to hear?”

“Dr. House is perfectly capable of doing that all on his own.” Cameron turned her attention back to the slide. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m trying to save your husband’s life.”

“Are you in love with him?”

“You know,” Cameron sighed and turned on her stool, her body stiff, “Whatever your relationship with Dr. House was, it’s been over for a long time. Maybe there are some residual feelings there, I don’t know. I don’t care. Maybe you think that you can hurt him by hurting me? But it’s not going to work. Dr. House doesn’t care about me. I’m one of his underlings and that’s it.”

“You’re just another in a long line of women that he’ll use.”

“What is this all about?” Cameron got off the stool and crossed her arms over her chest. “Going behind his back and altering his chosen preference of medical care wasn’t enough?”

“Not that I owe you anything, much less an explanation…”

Cameron smirked. “You’re the one who came in here.”

“He was going to die. I kept him alive and I kept his leg. And he couldn’t forgive me for that.”

“He trusted you.”

Stacy laughed, the sound hard and bitter. “You are a schoolgirl, aren’t you? No wonder Greg likes you. Have you ever had a bad day? Have you ever had something tragic in your life? I imagine he sinks into your cotton candy with a vengeance.”

“Dr. House…”

“Greg is a man. You’re a child. He’ll taste you and he’ll like your sweetness, but eventually he’ll get an appetite and want something heartier than you. Someone with some meat on her bones, some life in her. You’re a construct, a paper doll. You probably make him hard just by blowing him lip-glossed kisses.”

“Was there some point you were trying to make?” Cameron shook her head. “Are you jealous that he’s moving on with his life? That’s a little hypocritical considering you barely waited until your relationship was over to get married.”

“I don’t have to take this from you.”

“You need to take it from someone though.” Cameron smirked, giving Stacy a soft, condescending laugh. “You don’t get to come back into his life and think that you’re just going to pick up where you left off. Not only is he not the same man you were involved with, but you’re involved with someone else. Maybe you think your husband being in a coma gives you license to do whatever you want…oh, wait. You’ve already proven that.”

“You’re like a lioness protecting her cub. Does Greg know you think he can’t manage to make his own decisions, that you need to fight for him?”

“Does Greg know you’re in here harassing the person he’s charged with making sure your husband’s not dying?” Cameron’s voice shook with anger. “You want to prove that he still loves you? I’m sure that he does, but I’m equally sure that he’s moved on with his life.”

“To you?”

“Hey, Cameron…” Foreman stopped and raised an eyebrow. “Oh. Sorry.”

“What did you need?”

“Do we have a Child-Pugh score?”

“It should be with the creatinine draw. Why?”

“We’ve got focal nodular hyperplasia. House wants us to start on decompression.”

“I’ll finish up the biopsy.” She looked pointedly at Stacy. “If we’re finished.”

Stacy looked at Foreman. “Do you know what it is?”

“We’ll see how the decompression works. That should let us know for sure.” He smiled. “Mark’s going to be okay.”

“What is the decompression?”

“Come on. I’ll explain it on the way.”

Cameron watched them leave and sat back on her stool, gripping the counter with her hands to keep them from shaking. As soon as they were out of sight, she took a deep breath and focused her attention back on the microscope. Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them away. “Dammit, House,” she murmured softly as she blinked again and looked through the viewer again.

**

“Well, well, well, what have we here.” House stood over the table at the end of the bed and tapped the chart against the smooth surface. “You must be Mark.” He ignored the look the nurse gave him as she left the room. “I’ll take your silence as a yes, since if I’m in the wrong room, I’m going to be in big trouble anyway, but at least this way, I can blame it on you. Maybe you just nod your head a little. You can do that in a coma, or so they tell me.”

He circled around the bed and observed him. “You’re her type, or what her type was before me. I sort of defied type. How much has she told you about me? Not a lot I’d imagine. It’s not sporting to talk about the guy you’re still in love with to the guy you’re going to marry. At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

“Dr. House?” Chase watched him as he lifted his head. “Cameron’s got venocentric cirrhosis on the biopsy.”

“Budd Chiari syndrome.” House nodded. “Let’s get shunt thrombosis for portal decompression. The vena cava?”

“Clear.”

“Good. That gives us a 90% rather than 63% survival rate. Prep him for Hepatoatrial anastomosis with the femoral bypass and possible reconstruction of the vena cava if we lose it.” He looked up from the patient. “Where are Foreman and Cameron?”

“Foreman’s explaining the decompression to the wife. Cameron’s finishing up with pathology.”

“All right. For now, let’s lower his dose so he’s ready for surgery.”

“Do you want me to get the consent?”

House shook his head. “No. That one I’ll take care of.”

**

Stacy and Foreman both stood as House approached them. “He’s got Budd Chiari syndrome. It’s thrombosis of the hepatic veins. From his travels and the history, I think we’re safe in assuming he doesn’t have obliterative occlusion of the vena cava and associated with hepatocellular carcinoma. Unless you neglected to mention a trip to Chinatown?”

“No.”

“He’ll need surgery, but I think we can save the leg.”

Her eyes flashed. “Is there some question of that?”

“No. I just like irony.” He handed her a file. “He’ll need a shunt placed as well as a possible femoral bypass, depending on the state of the vena cava. We’re assuming from his test results that it’s fine, but if not, the portacaval shunt will work, but his chances of survival decrease significantly.”

“Will this save his life?”

“He’s not going to live forever, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Stacy met his eyes. “Nothing is forever.”

“True enough. 90% survival rate without the vena cave, 63% with it. Some other variables come into play, but I think he’s going to be fine. He might never play piano again.”

“He doesn’t play piano.” She opened the folder and stared at the paper inside it. “Do you have a pen?”

House reached into his pocket and brought one out, clicking it open. “I would have thought you’d bring your own.”

She handed the file to House; the pen clipped to the manila sleeve then turned to Foreman. “May I see him now?”

Foreman nodded. “For a bit.”

**

“Not observing?”

House tossed the ball in the air. “And see all those yucky body parts?” He tossed the ball again, cocking an eyebrow as Cameron caught it. “I’m enjoying my last respite from clinic hours.”

“What happens now?”

“Now? Nothing’s happening now.”

“With you. And her.”

“I am going to play with my ball in the privacy of my office. She is probably going to sit by her husband’s side, the devoted wife, and be there for him when he wakes up. He, hopefully, will not resent the fact that she made choices for him that quite possible undermined choices he’d made previously, thus proving to her that she married the better man.”

“She still loves you.”

“Yeah, well, the things we love aren’t always good for us.”

Cameron dropped the ball into his waiting hands. “Do you think I’m like cotton candy?”

“Sweet? Bad for my teeth? Pink and grainy?” He tossed the ball. “You’re going to have to give me a little bit more to work with.”

“Nothing of substance.”

“Ouch. She got you good, didn’t she?” House sat up and leaned his elbow on his desk. “Do you think you’re just spun sugar?” 

“No.”

“Then why do you care if someone else does?”

“I don’t care what she thinks.”

He shook his head. “You care what she thinks I think. That’s pretty much the same thing, since what she thinks I think is merely what she thinks in disguise.” He reached out and took her hand and pulled her toward him, settling her in his lap. Cameron stared at him with wide eyes and looked around the room then back at him. “You’ve never melted in the rain that I’ve seen, but it could be that you’re so good the clouds part around you.”

“I’m sitting in your lap.”

“You are. You’re heavier than cotton candy.” He held up one hand in defense. “Not much, but a little.”

“Am I in your lap because she’s with her husband?”

“Do you want to be here?” He leaned back in his chair, putting some distance between them. Cameron nodded slowly, and House gave her a ghost of a smile. “Then what does it matter?”

“I don’t want to be some sort of consolation prize.”

“The shoes were for Cuddy.” He leaned back in and whispered in her ear. “I ruined a pair so I owed them to her.” He reached down under his desk and pulled out a bag then set it on the desk. “These are for you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

House smiled and kissed her softly. “Now you’re catching on.”

**

Cuddy pulled her sweater closed as she opened the door. “Oh.”

Wilson smiled and held up a pair of burgundy pumps, the heel just the wrong side of respectable. “House asked me to drop these by.”

She fought her smile. “He did, did he?”

“Yeah. He also suggested that I mention that I wanted to see you wearing nothing but these, but I told him that was crass and I was above his kind of base pandering.”

She leaned against the doorjamb and crossed her arms over her chest, her smile flirting with the corners of her mouth. “Well, thank goodness for that.”

“There was a mention of the fact that we weren’t at the hospital so your no kissing anyone anywhere policy wouldn’t be in effect.”

“Assuming that policy applies to anyone other than House in the first place.” She looked back into her house then at Wilson. “You want a glass of wine?”

“That would be nice.” He followed her inside. “I can get it for you, if you’d like.” 

She waved him toward the bar and settled on the couch, tucking her bare feet under her as she watched him pour. “Despite the absence of the hospital and various co-workers and employees, you are still my head of oncology.”

“So we’ll keep the carcinogens to a dull roar.”

“And you’re still married.”

Wilson handed her a glass then walked back to the bar. He gathered his own glass and sat on the opposite end of the couch, leaning forward to place the heels in the middle of the coffee table in front of them. “I am.”

Cuddy took a sip then reached for one of the shoes. Wilson caught her wrist and eased her back, taking the shoe in his own hand and holding it up. She bit her lip then stretched out her leg, letting him slide the shoe on her foot, her fingers digging into the white leather cushions as he kissed her ankle. 

He lowered her foot onto his lap as he reached for the other shoe, coaxing her bare foot from beneath her. He held her ankle as he eased her into the shoe then let her leg down slowly. Cuddy slid her legs off of his and stood, both of them staring at the dark red against the white carpet.

Without a word, Cuddy shed her sweater and unbuttoned her shirt, leaving it hanging open off her shoulders. “You know he’s going to gloat about this for years, don’t you?”

Wilson stood and followed her as she turned and headed for the stairs. “I don’t care.”

She looked back at him over her shoulder and smiled, shrugging her shirt off completely, letting it fall at his feet. “Neither do I.”


End file.
